Resist

I thought about writing in my journal. Maybe it would help to get all of this pent-up frustration down in words. I finally rolled over at five a.m. in defeat. I wasn’t going to get any sleep like this. I couldn’t turn my brain off.

I slipped on a pair of running shoes and did something I hadn’t done since I moved to D.C. I went for a morning jog.

I headed out before the sun was fully in the sky. The buildings glowed from shimmers of early morning yellow. The whiteness of the city soaked in everything the sun painted on it.

It was gorgeous. I took in a deep breath, crossing the sidewalk and jogging around the block. I thought about what Greer said at dinner last night. There was good to do in this world. Looking at the enormity of what had been accomplished here, I felt inspired. Compelled to embrace the enormity of what lied ahead. And then I remembered. Today I had my first students.

Chapter Six

My heels echoed in the hall outside the lecture hall. I took at least four deep breaths. Public speaking wasn’t for everyone. And it was one of the reasons I had opted out of trial law. I didn’t like it.

But I had convinced myself teaching wasn’t the same as public speaking. That now seemed ludicrous faced with a class of fifty students.

I was also on trial. Everything I did was observed, recorded, and reported. My residency at American depended on my interaction with students and how they received my teaching methods. It didn’t matter that it was an introductory class. Some of the students were actually pre-law from the undergraduate level.

I only had to get through one class at a time. Today we would go over the syllabus and the schedule. I could drill down into our first cases later in the week.

“Professor Charles?”

I stopped at the door. There were two students blocking my entrance. It sounded strange to hear my name with professor tagged at the front.

“Yes?”

“We’re your mentees for the semester,” the girl explained. She had bright green eyes and her hair was pulled away from her face.

The guy beside her was slightly overweight and much taller than both of us.

“Yeah. I’m Gregory.”

“And Jessie,” she elbowed him.

“Oh. I didn’t realize you were coming to class.”

“We’re supposed to follow you everywhere. Class. The clinic. All of it.”

“All of it?” I hadn’t heard that part of the mentor program. I was surprised. And not prepared.

Jessie nodded. “We will sit in class and observe, but we can help with anything you need. Anything.”

“Oh. All right. Thank you.” I looked at each of them before walking inside.

“Nice to meet you,” they echoed behind me.

I felt unnerved. There were parts of this program that didn’t make sense to me. How was I supposed to be a mentor, when I was still getting my own footing? How could I guide and lead when I needed my own person?

Students were mumbling to each other and setting up their tablets and laptops when I walked in the room. Luckily, it was a small auditorium. I took a few seconds to unload the materials I had prepared and slow down.

I only needed a few brief seconds to frame my perspective. I remembered my first day in law school. I didn’t know the professors’ backgrounds or where they attended school. I didn’t know how old they were or how many years they had practiced law. Later, I found out some of them never had. It didn’t matter. I was too wrapped up in my own journey. My own reasons for being there.

And I was 99 percent sure these students had the same approach. They didn’t care about anything that had happened to me before I crossed that threshold. They had one motivation: pass law school. As long as I helped them do that, the rest was just interference.

I exhaled and smiled.

“Good morning.” I gathered the syllabi in my arms and walked toward the first row. “I’m Professor Charles. Welcome to your introductory trial class.”

I counted out the sheets and passed them to a student on the end.

“Don’t worry. The syllabus is also online, but sometimes it’s nice to have something you can reference if you need to make notes.”